


In My Time of Dying

by Mrs_Pappytats



Category: Supernatural
Genre: DeanCas - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Season 9, might be sad, s9 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:42:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1712015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Pappytats/pseuds/Mrs_Pappytats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know when you're dying; how your life is supposed to flash before your eyes? </p><p>Well all Dean could see was Cas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In My Time of Dying

Today was the day. The day Dean was supposed to kill Metatron. The day that Heaven would open, that everything would be at least a little bit better. Dean's first mistake was storming into that warehouse alone. 

Dean walks into the warehouse, blade hidden in his jacket. He finds Metatron practically waiting for his blade to reach his skin. As Dean walks closer, he notices Metatron sitting still in a meditation pose. 

"You can save the humble-pie Jesus routine for somebody who gives a damn." Dean snaps. His eyes as dark as the night sky. It looks as if he hasn't slept in days. 

"The problem with you Dean, is the cynicism. Always with the cynicism. But most people, even the real belly crawlers living in filth or Brentwood they don't want to be cynical. They just want something" he pauses "-to believe in."

Dean glares at Metatron, when was the chance to strike? "That would be you." Dean replies tiredly. 

"Why not me?" Metatron says, his tone as if he is offended. 

"You've been working those people outside for what, a day? They've already spilled blood in your name. You are nothing but Bernie Madoff with wings." Dean responds. He wants to pull the knife and stab him before its too late. 

Metatron pulls himself up from his sitting position to his feet. "So I'm a fake. Do you have any idea how much pan-cake makeup and soft lighting it took to get God to work a rope line? He hated it. And, you know, humans sense that. So they prayed harder and longer and fought more wars in his name. And for what?! So they could die of malaria? Leukemia? And all the while, blaming themselves!" He exclaimed. 

"Oh, if only I'd been more prayerful, "God would have loved me! God would have saved me!" He mocked the people. 

He continues his what seems like ever-lasting speech "You know what?! God didn't even know their name! But I do. Because I've walked among them. And I can save them."

"Sure, you can. So long as your mug is in every Bible and "What would Metatron do?" is on every bumper." Dean scoffs at the angel.

"And? What, are you blaming me for giving them what they want, giving them a brand they can believe in?" Metatron takes a step towards Dean. 

"I'm blaming you for Kevin! I'm blaming you for taking Cas' Grace." Dean takes the folded leather from his Jacket and begins to unfold the blade. "Hell, I'm blaming you for the Cubs not winning The World Series in the last 100 freaking years. Whatever it is... I'm blaming you." Dean finishes with no emotion but hatred plastered onto his face. Dean holds the blade in his hands, grip so tight his knuckles are white. 

Metatron's face changes to fear. Obviously he knows what this knife is, and what it can do. "The First Blade. Nasty piece of work, isn't she? Okay, let's say you win, Dean, and I die. What's the world left with then, hmm? A herd of panty-waisted angels and you? Half out of your mind with lord knows what pumping through those veins?" Metatron has changed to insulting, knowing now that Dean has the upper hand. 

This time, Dean takes a step towards Metatron, "Yeah, you see, the only thing you've said that went into my ear was that you die." Dean stares straight into Metatrons eyes. 

"Ohh. Fine. We'll fight. I don't know what you expect is gonna come of all this. Unless... That's why you're stalling. Because you know nothing's gonna come of this unless your pals succeed upstairs. Well, here's a news flash -- humpty and dumpty are starring in their very own version of "Locked Up Abroad: Heaven" right now." Metatron knows this won't end as planned, as he isn't near as cocky as he was 10 minutes ago. 

Dean takes this as the chance to strike, he swings his arm around towards Metatron, but Metatron dodges it, Dean then giving a blow to his face instead. 

"Wow, that big blade and that... douchy tribal tat sure gave you some super juice. Whoo! Okay." Metatron says, eyeing up the blade. Metatron then motions Dean to come forward, to strike once again. Dean lunges towards the cowardly angel, but Metatron throws Dean into the air, his back smacking flat against the wall. Dean groans with pain as he hits the ground heavily. 

Metatron then flings Dean to the wall once again, falling and groaning as he did once before. Metatron kicks Deans arm, the blade being sent across the room. That leaves Dean's empty hand, as Metatron steps onto it, keeping all his weight pinned onto Deans wrist. Dean yells in agonising pain.

"So, you took Abaddon's scalp, then you figured you'd take on little old nebbishy me. What could go wrong?" Metatron moves his repositions his foot on Deans wrist, applying more weight to it. Dean lets out another loud groan. "And you're powered by the bone of a jackass, and it is just awesome, right? Here's a tip -- next time, try to be powered by the word of God."

Just as Metatron kicks Dean straight in the chest, Sam bursts through the doors of the nearly-empty warehouse. He quickly draws his gun, running towards Dean. Dean laying there helplessly, he uses what power he has left to will the blade to his palm. As he goes to strike Metatron one last time, Metatron quickly stabs dean through the chest using an angel blade. Dean moans loudly as he hears Sam's cries of terror. Metatron quickly removes the knife from his chest as Dean lets out another horrible moan.

"No-o!" Sam yells, tears rolling down his cheeks as he rushes towards his older brother. Sam takes Dean in his arms. "Hey hey hey hey hey" Sam rushes the words out as he tries to keep his brother awake. Sam pulls Dean to he's sitting against the wall. 

Sam pulls a dirty cloth from his back pocket and holds it against the gaping hole in Deans chest, as a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. 

Dean weakly looks up at Sam, "Sammy, you got to get out of here before he comes back." He manages to choke out. 

Sam with tears still flowing down his now red cheeks spits out, "Shh. Shh. Shh. Shh. Shut up. Shut up. Just save your energy, all right? Oh, man. We'll stop the bleeding. We'll- we'll get you a doctor o-or I'll find a spell. You're gonna be okay." He tries to reassure Dean, or was it reassure himself?

"Listen to me. It's better this way." The hole in his chest has last so much blood, Dean knows he won't last long. 

"What?!" Sam cries.

Dean gasps for air. "The Mark. It's making me into something I don't want to be."

Sam still holds the cloth to Deans chest. "Don't worry about the Mark. We'll figure out the Mark later. Just hold on, okay? Get you some help."

"Sam. Hold up. Hold up." Dean says through a blood filled mouth. "I got to say something to you."

Sam holds Dean upright again. "What?"

Dean gasps for another breath, as the blood has stained his lips. "I'm proud of us." He pushes himself from Sams arms, as he looks off into the distance. 

Sams eyes start to water, the tears rolling down his face endlessly, he was not ready for any of this. "No, no. Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up, buddy." He shakes Dean in a failed attempt to wake his breathless body. 

And Dean was gone. Dean could still see though. Dean could see Cas. How though? He was just in the warehouse with Sam. He looks down to see no hole in his chest. He feels his lips, to see them free of blood. Was that all just a daydream? No. He's been here before. He remembers everything. He's sat at a table, two beers are there, he looks up to find Castiel, but not _his_ Castiel. This one was much more paranoid. He looks around as he see's one of the dancers walking towards them. "Hi there" she exclaimed. As Dean was about to respond with a witty compliment, his eyes flickered and he found himself standing in a street. The street was dark, and if the lamps weren't on, he definately wouldn't be able to see anything. He turns himself around to find his saviour in a trench coat; Cas. Dean doesn't understand. He remembers all these? What is happening? He stands there saying nothing, as Cas smiles and says "We had an appointment." He blinks his eyes at the angel and the scene changes once again; but this time he's inside. The walls are dark. "-cursed or not" he finds himself saying, but he never told himself to? He looks up again to see the angel, his appearance barely changed, except for the fact that Cas has no tie, he could say that nothing has changed. This time without blinking his surroundings change again, and he finds himself surrounded by trees. The same looking tree's as in- no it's not. He swiftly turns to look to his left, only to find Benny, who was there at no surprise. Dean is living this moment as if it was actually happening. His eyes flicker as he see's the angel crouching near the stream. He makes his way towards him to give him a hug, even though Cas didn't hug back, it was still a hug. Dean smiles to himself. He doesn't know why, or how he is in purgatory, _yet again_ as he untangles his arms from Castiels body the scene is worse. 

Hell. 

It's the exact same as it was 6 years ago. 

"Cas?" He yells. Nobody to hear him though. Dean could see the souls of the dead on the web of hell. But just then he hears a voice. 

"See what I see, feel what I feel, open your eyes, Dean and lets go take a howl at that moon." It was Crowley's voice. But how? His eyes were already open. What was he talking about? Dean closes his eyes, and opens them quickly, he lying in his bedroom. On his bed. He darts up, seeing Crowley standing there, he moves himself so quickly he could have fallen off the bed. The sight of Crowley was horrible. How could Dean see this though. He must be dreaming he tells himself. He must be. He takes a step towards the creature that could be Crowley but Dean isn't sure. 

"Hi'ya there, Dean." Crowley says, a wide smile peering on his face.


End file.
